


Assume a Virtue

by Fyre



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale likes being a Rogue, Crowley likes that Aziraphale likes it, Dirty Talk, reverse praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: Turned out if you spent your whole life bent under the weight of being good, sometimes cutting loose and doing everything you weren’t meant to do was a release. Certainly explained a few things about a particular angel who was currently fastidiously licking buttercream icing off his fingertips.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 173





	Assume a Virtue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phoenix_Soar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_Soar/gifts).



> I do have to warn that provisionally this could look like humiliation, but is it really humiliation when a) it's nothing but the truth and b) not one but both parties get off on it? :D
> 
> eta. Turns out this is what is known as the Reverse Praise Kink :D

Trouble with living in hiding for a long time, Crowley pondered, was that you had to learn to button your lip, say yes when you really wanted to say no, and smile as if everything was sunshine and roses and whiskers and kittens. And kittens? On kittens? Well, something. Whiskers. Kittens. All that rubbish.

Turned out if you spent your whole life bent under the weight of being good, sometimes cutting loose and doing everything you weren’t meant to do was a release. Certainly explained a few things about a particular angel who was currently fastidiously licking buttercream icing off his fingertips.

“Do you like it?” he inquired.

Aziraphale looked over at him, drawing his spit-glistening finger from his mouth. “Mm! The cinnamon was quite lovely.”

“Nah.” Crowley flapped a hand. “Not the icing.” The angel lifted his eyebrows. “The… doing things you’re not meant to. Like eating. And stuff.”

And the bloody bastard’s lips twitched. “‘Stuff’,” he echoed impishly. “How very specific.”

Funny that the angel could always make his ears burn. “You know what I mean.”

Aziraphale gave a little shimmy in his seat and swept another dollop off a cupcake with his fingertip. “Oh, I might.” He slanted a coy look at Crowley through his lashes. “I’ll have you know I’m _very_ well behaved.”

Crowley snorted. “Uh huh. You’re also a sodding great liar.”

Aziraphale’s wet pink lips wrapped around his finger and sucked again, his eyes wide and innocent. If he hadn’t been pre-occupied moaning over the icing, he probably would’ve batted his lashes.

Crowley leaned back against the couch. Wasn’t the one from the bookshop, but it was close enough. Plush and sturdy and hadn’t broken under their attentions yet. In for a penny, he thought, gazing across the coffee table at his partner-in-crime, his other half, his best friend.

“I think you like it,” he murmured, propping his cheek against his knuckles.

“Hmm?”

“I think you enjoy being _naughty_.”

Aziraphale didn’t look at him, making a show of fussily cutting his cupcake with his dessert fork. “Oh that’s just a dreadful thing to say.”

“S’true though, isn’t it?” He watched for the tell-tale flush of pink at Aziraphale’s collar, pitched his voice just so. “All those rules and you were breaking them, twisting them up like they were nothing, right under their very noses.”

“I never broke any rules,” Aziraphale replied, quartering the cupcake neatly. “Not one.”

“Thou shalt not covet,” Crowley purred.

Thunderstorm eyes met his and the angel offered that hint of a smile. “Those are the human rules, darling.”

Oh the game was _on_.

“Talking to a demon,” Crowley said, toying with the cool mesh of his scarf. “S’got to be something about that.”

Aziraphale practically sucked a mouthful of cake from his fork, tongue sliding obscenely against the tines. “Thou shalt smite thine enemy without mercy,” he recited once he had swallowed, pausing to lick crumbs from the corners of his mouth.

“Aha!”

“Ah, but you might not have been my enemy.”

Crowley pushed himself upright. “What else would you call a demon?”

Those wicked glinting eyes met his. “A poor, lost soul.”

“Oi!”

Aziraphale laughed. “Anyway,” he said with a cheeky wave of his fork. “For all the thou-shalt-smite elements, there is nothing in writing about not talking to a demon. I mean, _hypothetically_ , it’s very much assumed that you won’t but no one actually _said_ anything.”

Crowley fought a grin. “Pretty sure you’re not meant to do temptations.”

The squashed down smile said it all. “I mean no one actually _told_ me…”

“Ah!” Crowley leaned forward on the couch, wagging a finger. “But you _said_ no. You said they’d check. You _knew_ it was doing something wrong. You said so every time.” He inched out over the edge of the couch, grinning like a snake. “You _wanted_ to do something bad.”

And there it was, the delicious pink shade that made his ears warmer to nibble.

“I’m very easily led,” the angel said with a pout that would have been convincing if not for the smile fighting it.

Crowley slithered off the couch and pushed aside the coffee table to kneel at Aziraphale’s feet. “You’re stubborn as a mule,” he murmured, curling his hands around Aziraphale’s ankles under the cuffs of his trousers. “Couldn’t make you do anything if I tried. You made me chase you. You made me beg. You made me _apologise_.”

The flush was rising. “Now, dear, you know that wasn’t done to be cruel.”

“Yeah.” Crowley stroked slow circles around Aziraphale’s ankle bones with his thumbs. “But you were being all Holier than Thou at me, weren’t you? After all the sins you’ve committed. All the work you did on my behalf.” He rose up on his knees, sliding his hands up the front of Aziraphale’s calves. “You just hated the thought of being caught, didn’t you?”

Aziraphale’s fork clattered against his plate. “I was never caught,” he breathed.

“Ah, but to know that,” Crowley purred, splaying his hands on the angel’s knees and pushing them apart, “you had to know you were doing something _bad_.”

“It was all part of the plan.” Aziraphale’s voice had taken on that breathier note, one that Crowley delighted in inspiring. “There had to be a reason for it all.”

“No, angel.” Crowley slid closer, his ribs pressing to Aziraphale’s inner thighs. “You _chose_. You chose to speak to demons. You chose to entice them–”

“Him!”

“Him,” Crowley conceded, “to eat with you. You chose to accept the devil’s bargain.” His hands eased upwards, thumbs trailing the seams of the angel’s trousers. Aziraphale seemed to be holding his breath, his plate shivering in his hand. “You _chose_ to let me close.”

“I’m an angel,” Aziraphale breathed. “We don’t have choices.”

Crowley pushed himself up, bracing his weight against Aziraphale’s thighs, until they were nose-to-nose, staring at one another. “You’re doing it again,” he whispered. “Telling your little lies. Right to my face.”

Aziraphale’s eyes dipped down. “But I’m _good_.”

Their lips were so close, so very close, Crowley could feel the shivering huffs of Aziraphale’s breath on his skin.

“You’re such a bastard,” he breathed.

Aziraphale’s plate clattered to the floor a split second before the angel’s hand sank into Crowley’s hair, closing the gaps between their mouths. Cinnamon-sweet and sticky with icing, he kissed Crowley with intent, moaning into his mouth as Crowley teased him to open with the tip of his tongue, nipping at lips, licking at tongue and teeth.

Crowley was the one to draw back, grinning. “S’that something a good angel would do?” he purred, trailing the tip of his nose against Aziraphale’s. “You filthy little sinner.”

"Crowley, don't," Aziraphale breathed in a tone that very much said ‘Crowley do’.

"But you are," Crowley crooned, nuzzling his way to Aziraphale’s ear, gently sucking on his earlobe. "Filthy little thing. Could have you gasping and squirming for an evil fiend like me. _Begging_. Bet you wish I'd put you over my knee, don't you? Give you a nice hard smiting."

Aziraphale made a small, strangled sound close to his ear. “I’m a good angel,” he moaned, but as he did so, he caught Crowley’s hand on his thigh, dragging it further up the seam of his trousers. “You can’t–” His moan as Crowley palmed him through his trousers was intoxicating. “You _can’t_ say such things about me.”

Someone’s sake, he was a temptation all by himself. Not even trying or anything.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Crowley breathed, concentrating on undoing one button, then the next and the next. “Don’t try and deny it. We both know you enjoy this.” He slipped his hand into Aziraphale’s trousers, squeezing though his underwear, and quoted in a low growl, “God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale arched up into his grip. “Oh Heavens…”

“Deny it,” he murmured, nuzzling the angel’s ear. “Tell me again what a good angel you are. How… obedient. How well-behaved. How… nice.”

Aziraphale’s hand wrapped around his on his erection, the angel rutting against his palm, his breathing reduced to soft, urgent huffs.

“You can’t, can you?” Crowley kissed the corner of his jaw with mocking tenderness. “You really can’t, because you know you’re a wicked thing.” His own trousers were getting uncomfortably tight with the combination of the heat of Aziraphale’s cock against his palm and the sounds the angel was making, his fingers still curling and tugging in Crowley’s hair. “You like it, don’t you? Knowing none of them saw this coming. Knowing you fooled them all, even me, right to the end of the world.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale moaned, tilting his head to try and catch Crowley’s lips.

“You’re so clever.” Crowley skimmed his lips over the angel’s gasping gulping ones. “Such a sneaky, cunning, wicked little angel.” He moved his hand faster, feeling the tell-tale dampness through the fine cloth, the heat and hardness of Aziraphale against his fingers making him light-headed. “And no one knows. No one even _imagines_ what an absolute fucking bastard you are. No one but m–”

Aziraphale crushed their mouths together again, moving their hands with frenzied jerking motions, until he gave a sharp cry, catching between their lips and his cock pulsed in Crowley’s hand, soaking the fabric of his underthings.

Crowley chuckled against his lips. “Now that,” he murmured, drawing back and grinning at the smoke-eyed angel. “That was naughty.”

“Mm.” Aziraphale squeezed his fingers gently. “I could argue that it felt divine.” His other hand untangled from Crowley’s hair to caress his cheek. “Stand up, darling.”

“Whaffor?”

Aziraphale brushed a kiss over his lips. “Your bene… _dick_ tion.”

Crowley goggled at him. “Angel!”

The damned bloody blushing angel beamed at him. “Don’t you want me on my knees?”

“Ffff!” Crowley staggered to his feet at once, tugging at his belt buckle and buttons.

Aziraphale went to his knees like he was born to, delicately tucking himself away, though the sight of him kneeling there on the rug, shirt hanging out, flush-faced, his hands folded like a penitent at prayer did things to Crowley. Like Properly _Did Things_. He made a strangled sound, yanking uselessly at his belt.

“Let me.”

Crowley let his hands fall to his side and watched, sucking in sharp, wanting breaths, as Aziraphale undid his buckle and then his trousers and, without any hesitation, peeled down his jeans to pinion his thighs together.

“Now,” the damned bloody blasted wonder said in the same voice he used when presented with a new and exciting menu, “let’s see what you have for me.” With hands far steadier than Crowley’s, he curled up Crowley’s shirt, leaving him bare from mid-thigh to navel – why’d they even have them? Bit pointless, weren’t they, but–

A reproachful squeeze to his bollocks made him yelp in surprise.

“With me, darling,” Aziraphale said gently. “No wandering off.”

The sound Crowley made lacked consonants. Or vowels. Or anything really.

The angel rose on his knees and moved those lovely big warm broad hands to clasp Crowley’s hips. His ridiculous innocent eyes met Crowley’s and that bastard of a smile danced around his lips. “Can I earn my forgiveness?”

“Pfsss.” Crowley told him, threading one shaky hand into his hair and stroking.

Aziraphale nuzzled at his wrist, then bowed his head and did things with his mouth that no buggering angel should know about. Crowley groaned, curling his fingers, guidning, pushing, straining against the iron grip of the angel’s hands. So strong, Aziraphale was. Relentless, greedy, suckling and licking and swallowing him to the base.

“Bastard,” Crowley keened, trying to hurry him, trying to anything, but held rock steady and entirely at the angel’s mercy.

Aziraphale lifted his head with a smile. “You’re being awfully good, darling.”

“Fuck off,” Crowley wailed.

The angel chuckled, dipping down to suck teasingly at Crowley’s balls, humming and moaning as if he was dining at the bloody Ritz. On the bloody starters at that! Not even paying attention to the main course right in front of him.

“’Ziraphale!” Crowley whined, tugging at his hair, which only led to him yelping when a bruising bite scraped over his thigh. “Fffff–” His hips wanted to buck, to move, but he’d have bruises if he pushed harder. The thought made his cock _ache_. Aziraphale’s hands imprinted on his skin. “Angel, for someone’s sake!”

“Dreadfully sorry,” Aziraphale said, all eyes lowered and innocent. “Apparently I’m a very naughty person.”

“Escalating,” Crowley growled, “to very _fucking_ naughty.”

Those damned mischievous eyes met his, the heat in them making his legs quake. “You _hope_.”

“Ang-GNH!” Both his hands sank into Aziraphale’s hair as the angel’s wet, hot, skilful mouth wrapped around his cock again, tongue swirling around the head, swallowing down, then teasing up. Over and over, top, middle, bottom, around, making everything better and worse at the same time. Didn’t push him down. Wouldn’t work. Couldn’t make the buggering angel do anything he didn’t want to do and–

The grip on his hips eased, wordless invitation and he gasped out in relief, rocking into Aziraphale’s eager, welcoming mouth.

Didn’t take long. Especially not when angelic hands pulled him close and miraculously slippery fingers teased down and sank into his arse, catching him coming and going.

“NGAH!” Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s head down as he came, relishing the sharp nudge of the angel’s nose against his belly, the laving lick and hungry swallow around him and – as always – the happy little moan around him. Angel always did like having a tasty mouthful.

Broad slick hands cradled his arse as his legs wobbled, and Aziraphale lifted his head, licking his lips.

“Am I forgiven?” he said, smiling like the filthy little sinner that he was.

Crowley crashed to his knees in front of him and swayed in to lick his own seed from the angel’s mouth. So what if he crawled into Aziraphale’s lap, straddling him, coiling around him, both of then sodden and stained and satisfied?

Aziraphale smiled into his mouth, cradling him with a hand at his nape and another at the base of his spine. “I do have one complaint,” he murmured between wet, sloppy kisses.

“Ngh?”

“You made me spill my cupcake.”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed.


End file.
